Disclaimer: I don't think I put these…but anyway I am a mere fanfiction writer and I do not hold the glory of owning such characters, Jk does.
A/N: Wow it's been a while since I've updated. Well with Christmas and New Year stuff going on I was too busy to write. Oh, and my brother is on the computer 24/7 playing Ragnarok online. So yeah I can't write either, thanks for waiting though. Sorry for the long wait. Oh and just a note, part of this chapter was inspired when I watched Pearl Harbour the other day, see if you can guess which part! And as always, thanks for the reviews, review again if you will. Enjoy!… hopefully.
Chapter 6 – Nose in a Book
"I need to speak with you."
"What is it Granger?" He asked looking slightly annoyed at her timing but casual all the same. She hesitated before answering. "Granger I know I'm irresistible but please, contain yourself."
It was at that when Hermione was forced to answer him. "Malfoy you know it's not about that so stop it. I need to speak with you about, about that book and I think you know what I'm talking about."
The look of smugness that inhabited his features vanished and was replaced by a look of surprise. Is it possible that she could know? "Fine, go on. But I must protest, you have chosen a dreadfully inconvenient time it's just before breakfast."
"I'm aware of that, so can we please choose a time?" She exasperated, looking at him semi-imploringly. This ritual thing was really starting to freak her out and she wanted answers as soon as possible. She didn't even know why she was concerning herself within these matters all she knew was that she had a thirst for knowledge and her conscience would not be at ease if there was a possibility that her suspicions may be true.
"Can't this wait until tomorrow night when we have to meet anyway?" He asked, his eyes darting around cautiously just in case any other of his fellow students decided to enjoy breakfast early. Hermione also shared within his precautions thus prompting her to answer quickly.
"Well…why not tonight?" She asked. It's not as if she wanted to see more of him, that was not the case, although it did seem like it.
"Quidditch Practice, our match against your house is coming up and I will triumph over the four-eyed freak."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not a chance Malfoy, Harry would grab that snitch before you any day."
"Is that a challenge Granger?" He asked, smiling mischievously.
"Would it matter if it was? It wouldn't be a fair deal because it's guaranteed that Gryffindor will win." She smirked.
He covered a laugh. "I agree with you it wouldn't be a fair deal because - correction – Slytherin will win."
"Whatever Malfoy. I just wanted to ask, does it really exist?" She asked reinstating her level of seriousness. With an enigmatic knowledge of what she was referring to, he replied.
"I'll know for sure soon." And before she could even reply, he darted away and out of sight. When she poked her head around the corner from which he sped off to she saw him running up to someone.
"Hey Blaise." Said Draco as he quickly ran up to his companion, before he could see whom he was previously conferring with. Hermione ducked back around the corner before Blaise could see her. No wonder why... She bit her lip. So Malfoy didn't know for sure if the ritual existed or not. He also said he'd find out soon… What did that mean? That he actually owled a store, or something else? Spotting a familiar mop of black hair she walked out of the corridor to catch up with her friends.
As she sat down she saw the jug of steaming black coffee. Smiling to herself she poured herself a cup in memory of the previous night. Harry sat down next to her. She turned to him.
"Hey Harry, the next Quidditch match is coming up, right?" She asked as she forked a few scrambled eggs on to her plate.
"Yeah, why do you ask?"
"Just promise me to grab that snitch first." She said with a flare for competition. He smiled.
"Of course."
Sighing she began to eat. I guess I must confront him tomorrow then…
Hermione leaned back in her chair and sighed. She had been finishing her homework here in Library for hours now. For a reason unknown to her, she decided to seat herself in the seat she usually sat when she was with Draco. She had the feeling of claiming ownership if this particular spot due it's air of familiarity and homeliness. She did feel at home when sitting in this certain spot and she didn't know why, she also felt the same feeling when in the Gryffindor common room. Only here it was different, a hundred others did not share this isolated home, it was hers to claim and to own for no one dared to step foot there. The only other soul who took temporary residence here was the boy she was now watching through the window as he determinedly practiced to win his challenge.
Yes, she was now watching Draco Malfoy whilst pausing in her studying. He was only a green blur through the clear glass, but his handsome white-blonde hair was unmistakeable against the dark skies. It was unique to him. It was only he in the entire school that sported such shimmering locks. Now its shimmering beauty was enhanced even more so in the ever preternaturally soft moonlight.
The six other green blurs had now slowed to a halt in the air and all seven figures descended towards the marsh grounds of the pitch, he included. Snapping her eyes away, she returned to her arduous work oblivious of the amount of time that had elapsed during her little escapade when she stared gazing out towards the grounds.
When Draco returned from training clad in his Quidditch robes, he stepped tiredly into his dorm to find his father's owl sitting idly on his bed gazing up at him with beady yellow eyes.
"Obsidian!" Draco cried out, jumping at the bird, almost startling the creature. "Finally…" he breathed in a sigh of relief. All traces of his tiredness and exhaustion were gone, now replaced with anxiety and excitement. His hands shook nervously as he untied the black ribbon that attached the letter to the leg of Obsidian. Obsidian, the regal owl gave a hoot, nodded and flew off once it was clear that he would be sending no reply. Gulping, Draco slid the parchment out of the envelope. Opening it, his heart fell. Only two words were written in his father's neat scrawl, two very puzzling words.
Your Destiny
"My what?" he blurted, "What the bloody hell is this rubbish!" Draco yelled in fury. He snatched up the envelope and practically tore it apart in desperation. He found nothing else inside. What angered him was that instead of his father's reply granting him security and closure, it only presented more questions. And these new myriads of questions were regrettably more confusing and fearful. At least he knew one thing for sure: it existed.
"Well I already knew that!" He yelled angrily in the quiet of his empty dorm. "Yes it exists, but what the hell do you mean father? 'My Destiny,' what do you mean?" He paced around his dorm fuming silently, but breathing heavily to control his anger. He needed to think. What did this all mean?
But Draco had received his answer just mere moments later.
He fainted.
He woke, gasping, everything was clearer now. The father and the boy in his dreams, the two vials – the figures he had witnessed were no longer just blurred figures, they had taken pristine clear shape. Draco had recognised the people in his dreams immediately, for he saw his father but more importantly – he saw himself. Only it wasn't the self he knew, it was he surely but he was more than a decade younger. He had witnessed a six-year-old version of himself.
… It is said that the details of this ritual is taught to those who are of the sixth generation at a very young age, to be imprinted in the mind, to lay forgotten in the recesses of the subconscious until they are of age to preform this ritual where the memory may resurface unknowingly as either visions or dreams to the chosen sixth…
It took a second for him to finally understand, to finally be clear and appreciate the gravity of his rather unfortunate predicament. It was him, he was the key, or one of the keys at least, but they probably had retrieved a blood of some ancestor of his from six hundred years ago. He slumped on his bed, and for the first time in living memory, he was completely dumbstruck, if not, he was horrified. But most of all, he was scared. It could have been many long years before Draco spoke again, it could have been seconds, minutes or days but when he had finally recovered slightly from his shocked silence he asked a very important question.
"Why me?"
He stood silently from his bed and started to pace his dormitory again, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Millions of questions raced around his mind, each causing him to grow angrier and angrier by the minute. "Why me?" he whispered to himself. "Why hadn't they informed me? I should have had a say in this…they should of told me, do I have a choice? Why did they choose me? Who else knows about this?" He continued to pace, his steps growing considerably faster. But who would want to preform such an abhorrent ritual? Only one name had surfaced in his mind and one name alone: The Dark Lord. He wouldn't dare say the Dark Lord's name but there was no doubt that it was he that wanted to literally raise hell. He didn't give a second thought about it and if his suspicions were true then he didn't have a choice. If Draco refused to partake in this then there would be no doubt that The Dark Lord would certainly murder him. But he didn't want to do it, he was too proud a person to be used in such a way. They may say it would be glorious or an honour to be involved such an act, but Draco thought it was ridiculous and would only result in, well if worse came to worse, then perhaps another Armageddon would likely arise. He had no wish in dying, he had no wish of his family dying either, but he soon realised he would die either way. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he realised he was imprisoned in a lose-lose situation.
"I die either way…" He whispered in mingled shock and fear. "Is the Dark Lord really that desperate?"
He was rudely interrupted when Crabbe and Goyle loudly stepped in and told him that dinner was starting. "Be right down," He muttered dismissively as he stared into nothingness completely at loss for words and unaware of what to do. The bumbling duo left an oblivious Draco to be alone again and worry about his not too distant future. It was only when Pansy poked her head through the dormitory door when he finally snapped from his reverie.
"You are coming to dinner aren't you, Draco?" looking slightly concerned. Draco was surprised with her sudden behaviour, she had never been concerned about his welfare before. She had only been concerned with his looks and his wealth, even though she outwardly protested that she did like him, Draco was no fool.
"Why are you so concerned?" He asked.
"I was looking for you before and I saw your father's owl…"
"Oh…that." He said looking away. "That was just my father informing me that I need an escort for my family's annual Christmas Ball." He lied quickly.
"But Christmas is at least a month away." Said Pansy, but Draco could tell she was looking hopeful. He usually did ask her to accompany him to his family's ball since she was one of the decent looking Slytherins and her family was invited regardless. His relationship with her was purely platonic although he only hoped Pansy saw it that way as well.
"Preparations begin early." He said shortly. "Yeah I'm coming down to dinner." He stood from his bed, pocketed his father's letter and pushed ritual out of his mind telling himself he'd worry about it later.
As hungry as he was from Quidditch practice, Draco did not eat. He simply sat there playing with his stew pushing it around the plate with his spoon. Not only was it a NEWT year, but he had Quidditch to think about, the decathlon as well and now he had this mother load of things to concern himself with because of his destiny with this Abyssus Erigo thing. He was too lost in his won confused thoughts to notice anything else, not even when Dumbledore announced that the upcoming Quidditch match had been moved up a week due to Madame Hooch's departure for a holiday. He only noticed when Pansy had stomped hard on his foot to make him realise. This meant that the match was now in the coming week and not the week after the next. Draco swore at this, great, just great.
Hermione's eyes wandered curiously over to the Slytherin table where she knew a blonde would be seated. She had suspected that he would know by now whether that ritual did exist although he did look quite disturbed and perhaps even morose, she could only conclude that whatever he found out, it was not very good. Dumbledore was just in the middle of informing the congregation that Quidditch was moved up by a week when Malfoy looked angrily at Pansy who seemed to have disturbed him in his train of thought. He then slumped back in his chair looking agitated and rather annoyed at their Headmaster's news. Hermione glanced over to Harry who didn't seem bothered by the news at all, in fact he seemed to welcome it with open arms. She smirked.
"Seems like Malfoy isn't looking too happy with the upcoming match." She commented with a smile. Harry and Ron, who had just surfaced from his food, looked up to their enemy and smiled.
"Doesn't look too happy does he?" Asked Ron. "Probably knows they're going to lose…again!" He said delightedly, looking hopeful. Harry, who was captain this year, smiled and made a mental note not to receive any detentions in the next week. It was his last year and he definitely wanted Gryffindor to receive the cup.
For Hermione, the next night drew close with anticipation. Wringing her wrists nervously she checked the clock to find it was still seven-thirty. She wondered weather half an hour was still too early. Shaking her head she picked up her bag, of course not!
It seemed, as she arrived in the Library ten minutes later, that Malfoy had not even arrived yet. Plonking herself in her usual seat she picked rummaged through her bag, picked up her book on Herbology: Two thousand five hundred and fifty-six magic and non-magic herbs, a complete Encyclopaedia. After a few minutes of silent reading and memorising a loud disturbance caused her attention to stray from her work. Loud deliberate footsteps echoed through the soundless Library and a vehement hiss of whispers trailed along with it. She wasn't surprised to see a frustrated and angry looking Malfoy stride in (for Malfoys did not stomp) and belligerently seat himself. Eyeing him curiously, she raised an eyebrow.
"Wake the dead, you did." She remarked at his disruptive entrance.
"Whatever," he replied gruffly, slammed a book on the table and began to read. The first ten minutes passed with silence, aside from Malfoy's frequent mutterings. They were mainly underneath his breath and to himself but Hermione could have sworn she heard, 'destiny… what the hell….going on about… no help' and the frequently asked question, 'why me.' At first she concluded that it was about Quidditch and it had something to do with the rather controversial match due in the next week, but when he muttered 'destiny' it completely threw her off. She glanced over to the corner where Madame Pince kept the new books reserved for them and took a green one, green for Herbology for they had arrived at covering the topic. Another five minutes passed and Draco, finally losing patience slammed his book shut, huffed and folded his arms.
"What…?" She asked.
"Nothing."
Rolling her eyes she looked back down. "Any answers?" she asked. "About - "
"I know what you're talking about!" He snapped. Her question only seemed to elevate his anger. She shot him a glare. This boy could be really rude when he was irritable.
"Well?" She asked with mingled anticipation and apprehension. He gave her a dark look.
"That is none of your business Granger." He answered curtly. The nerve of him! Hermione bet that he hadn't even told any of his friends about this little ritual. If it existed, that is. It was more her business than anyone else's. She raised an eyebrow.
"Well then, would it also be none of my business that I happened to bring with me a certain book that - "
His head snapped to her smirking face.
"Hand it over Granger." Said Draco, determined not to sound too eager as he held out a hand.
"Not until you reveal -"
"Hand it over Granger!" He spoke more forcefully as if commanding her to obey him. She was about to snap back when he suddenly collapsed. It was so quick and sudden that Hermione yelped in fright. His body just fell forward and landed with a heavy thump onto the table, much like a limp rag doll. Hermione stood and cautiously crept forward, tucking her hair behind her ears as she did so and shook him gently.
"Malfoy… Malfoy… oh not again." She said worriedly. But there was no need to because in the next instant he sat up quickly and woke. Clutching her chest, Hermione jumped back, startled. "Don't, do that!"
"What…?"he breathed looking slightly dazed. Returning to her seat Hermione looked absolute.
"It's my business now Malfoy." She said with a hint of triumph. Realising she was right, he frowned and looked away. Personally, he wasn't too comfortable with her prying around in his affairs, even if she did just want to help. He had always been too convinced that he didn't need any. But now, she had witnessed him collapsed into vision twice and considering this, she had more business within this matter a whole lot more than his closest friends.
"Abyssus Erigo…" mused Hermione softly, "I wonder what it means…"
"Hell raise." He answered before he could stop himself. "I know a tad of Latin." He added quickly at her look of inquisition.
"Thought so, so did you owl anyone?" She asked, it looked as if she was wasting no time. "Does it actually, you know, exist?" Draco hesitated and avoided her gaze for a moment trying to decide whether he could trust her or not. Finally resigning to the fact that the girl sitting across from him wouldn't withdraw from the situation unless he used a memory charm, and she already knew too much, he sighed. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly reached into one of his deep pockets and retrieved a piece of parchment.
"I owled my father." He said darkly as he handed it to her.
"Your father?" she asked, taking the parchment from him, she then pursed her lips figuring out quickly that he had chosen the most efficient option. If there would be anyone who knew about this, it would be Lucius Malfoy.
Slowly she opened it and read the two horrifying words written on it. "But- how- I mean – Your…?"
"My destiny, yes." He finished for her with a very dark expression. "This just presents more inquiries. And yes it is I. I'm one of the chosen and yes I'm a key element in the destruction of the world."
"But…" Hermione looked very troubled and stood. She started pacing the area. "This, this is huge, this is colossal, this is outrageous. Well I did consider it a possibility – I mean it all fits, I had just hoped that I was wrong but - "She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and faced him. "But you can't actually be thinking of going through with it, do you?" She asked worriedly.
He gave her a look. "Yeah, sure I'd love to be a part of the next apocalypse which will eventually get us all killed, sure I'm absolutely ecstatic."
She relaxed a little. "Well, good."
"And you do know that if I refuse, The Dark Lord would not spare a thought in ending my life." He said, anger clearly evident in his tones.
"I -" She started, but she didn't know what to say. She gripped the roots of her hair and sat back down looking grim. "I don't want you to die Malfoy." She said quietly.
"And nor do I." He added.
"Well you could go to Dumbledore." She suggested, looking resigned.
In answer, he looked revolted. "I am not going to run to the old man for help, never. He's senile."
Hermione looked insulted. "Shut up. He may not be young, but he's wiser and more powerful than you and I put together! And he is not senile! He can help you."
Draco scoffed. "You've offended my honour by suggesting such a thing."
"Malfoy, just listen - "
"No, you listen Granger, I'm not your four-eyed boyfriend – I don't go running to the Headmaster with every little problem I have! Come to think of it, you had better not run to him either!"
"But Malfoy, this isn't just a little problem!" Hermione said, raising her voice.
"This is none of you business Granger so but out!"
"Yes it is!"
"Just shut up!"
Hermione huffed haughtily, picked up a book and looked away. The 'conversation' had officially ended. "You need to do something Malfoy." Hermione whispered.
"I know." He replied quietly. She didn't mean for him to hear, but she was glad he did anyway. It was a few minutes before anything eventful happened. Draco was too angry and too distracted to concentrate on anything now that he was thinking about the stupid ritual. He snapped another book shut and looked over to the pile of new books in the corner. "Accio -" he was too pissed off to think about the name of a book so he simply yelled, " – books!" and waved his wand around angrily.
A grave mistake
Fortunately, Hermione had realised this at once. "No!" she leaped to her feet. Every single book in the Library came soaring towards him at alarming speed. Malfoy started to scream. Whipping out her wand, she yelled, "Finite Incantatem!"
She really did hope she was fast enough. The book soared back to their respective places. Unfortunately she was not quick enough to save his nose. He lay on the floor clutching his nose, his eyes teary and his face very red.
"Oh Malfoy…" she whispered. Stowing her wand away, she rushed to his side trying to stifle her laughter.
"I don' know wha' you fink ish so amusin' abou' my nose Granger!" He spat as he got up on all fours.
"I'm sorry, but you did bring this upon yourself you know." She chuckled. Still clutching his nose, he swaggered to a standing position trying to maintain his dignity. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"What the hell do you think?" He snapped as he heavily seated himself and bit his lip to ease the pain. His eyes were really teary and his nose was really red. "L-Let's g-get on with this Granger." He stuttered with difficulty. His nose really was in pain and that book was flying towards him pretty fast. Thankfully after a few minutes the pain subsided a little and things had returned to the usual silent manner.
"So have you got any information yet?" She asked, drawing their attention back to the ritual.
"Can you hand me the book then?" He asked, his father was absolutely no help, owling him only worsened the situation.
"Oh yes, here." Feeling rather enthusiastic and giddy, she threw the book at him even if he was just sitting across the table from her.
Another grave mistake
Draco was not prepared and with his reflexes slightly impaired due to pain, Hermione's airborne textbook flew straight into his already bruised nose and knocked him right off his chair. He landed in a rather undignified heap. Hermione gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. This time he really did look as if he reached the point of crying. His face was now a similar shade of Ron's hair. His breathing was heavy and his hands shook violently as he blindly grasped around for the fallen book. She could only stand and watch him for a moment in mild amusement.
"The-the book just got away from me" He rasped painfully. He couldn't stand it anymore, finally he groaned and clutched his nose. "This really hurts." He admitted, beginning to sound like and injured child. Tears, whether he willed it or not, started to leak from his eyes. "My nose!" He howled, "My perfectly chiselled nose!" He was crouched into a sort of ball on the floor rolling about and howling, evidently all trace of his dignity was forgotten. All he could think about was the pain. "My perfectly chiselled nose! It's broken!" He tried to fight the hot tears from forming in his eyes. "It's broken! My perfect nose is broken!"
"Oh Merlin, I'm sorry." Said Hermione running to his side. She did feel rather guilty for the incident but nevertheless he was her enemy after all, and she couldn't help but feel a little amusement. If Harry and Ron were here, she mused, they'd be roaring with laughter. Frantically, she sat on the floor beside his hunched figure and gently holding his shoulders, she guided his head onto her lap so she could inspect the damage. "Oh no it's bleeding… here let me help." She took his shaking hands from his nose her guilt increasing at the damage she had caused. "Let me see…"
"It hurts, oh it hurts, my nose – I can't breathe, I can't breathe!"
"Lay still Malfoy, lay still." She said consolingly until he eventually calmed down. Waving her wand, she conjured some ice and softly dabbed it on his nose.
"It's cold!" He gasped.
"It'll help numb the pain and stop the bleeding." She told him.
They laid in silence for the following minutes while she nursed his broken nose, all the while he gazed blankly into her eyes. Why did they seem so bright? They looked so carefree and yet were careworn. For me, he thought awkwardly. He was unkind to her and yet here she sat, helping him. The only question he could ask was: why? It seemed like he was asking that question a lot these days. He had never considered her as a buxom or attractive girl. To him, she wasn't worth his roving eye. But lately… he may have to reconsider. She was growing on him, he just wasn't fully aware of it yet. And her intelligence was quite alluring too…
He snapped out of his gaze and focused his eyes elsewhere and pretended to look interested in the cobwebs above the windows. His eyes only returned to her when she took the ice off his nose.
"Sorry," she apologized quietly, "but I did break your nose."
The expression on his face was nothing short of horrified. His hands flew to his face. "It will be okay, won't it?" His voice rose in panic. Traces of fear danced in his eyes. "There must be some sort of charm to fix it, I don't want to be looking like Dumbledore for the rest of my days."
"Yes there is, but I've never preformed it before. Would you like to go to Madame Pomfrey, or shall I do the honours of restoring your nose to its original 'perfection'?" She asked, looking down on him. He did look cute when he was scared…
"What – and walk around the school looking like a demented freak? My perfect looks -" she rolled her eyes "- are ruined, I'd rather stay here thanks."
"Okay," she said bracingly. Hermione drew her wand, pointed to his nose and muttered, "Episkey." A hot surge followed by an icy tingle rushed through his nose as he sat up. Quickly he stood and hastily took a few steps back when realising where his head had previously had been. In her lap - that was how distraught he was. Hermione looked away to hide the furious blush rising in her cheeks. "Er, uh it should be fixed," she muttered quickly. She herself could not believe she had encouraged them to be in such a position. I was fixing his nose, she repeated to herself, I was fixing his nose and that's all it was. Standing, she returned to her seat and propped up a large book to hide her tomato-like complexion. It was a few moments before she was able to gather enough courage and take a glance at him. To her relief, he was already engrossed in The Dark Arts, Clandestine Rituals and Prophecies, or at least he seemed like it.
"Oh, I forgot." Said Hermione, she withdrew her wand and pointed it at him, "Tergeo!"
"What did you do?"
"I just saved you from looking like you were involved in a gang fight." She said smartly.
"Right" he muttered, flicking through a page. "I feel the need to establish another ground rule." He informed her as he scanned a paragraph.
"And what might that be?"
"Propelling through the air common objects, especially books, is strictly prohibited. I don't fancy being knocked out again by a potentially dangerous projectile."
She laughed. "Oh alright then, but if you dislike airborne objects so much – enough to establish a ground rule – Why do you play Quidditch?"
"Quidditch is Quidditch." He answered. "Quidditch is a sport and players enter that pitch with full knowledge of any risks that may occur whilst in play. Players know fully well that there is a chance that they will be injured, they do not however," he shot her a deadly glance, "They do not enter a Library knowing fully well that the Head Girl will chuck a book in their face."
"Well normal people Malfoy don't walk into a Library and summon every single book into their face." She retorted. "You're fortunate that I realised -"
"Save me from your heroic monologue Granger," He snapped, "Any idiot with half a brain could have figured it out, I was startled that's all."
"And I don't suppose you're an idiot with half a brain?"
"Of course not! I'm a picture of mental health."
"Strange, I have the largest urge to laugh"
"Shut up." He said furtively.
"Running out of quips Malfoy?" She asked.
"No. Just running out of patience with you."
"You know, you still haven't said thank you." She said expectantly. He gave her a withering look as if it were a ridiculous notion for her to expect such a thing from him.
"So Hermione, how was the git tonight?" asked Harry as Hermione sank into a chair in the Gryffindor Common room an hour later. She smiled.
"Well…" she said looking almost ready to laugh, "I broke his nose…"